No Need For a Cape
by meganface
Summary: Scott has never thought of himself as heroic. A Scott character study.


Scott has never thought of himself as heroic. Back when he and Stiles were nobodys and he couldn't run two minutes without wheezing, he'd consider what it'd be like if he were. In this juvenile way, like how he'd always play as Spiderman or Superman and Stiles as Batman.

He used to dream it, too. Dream that he could roam the streets helping people, saving them.

He dreamt of being so super that he could make his mom smile without the threat of tears spilling from her eyes. That he could do something, anything, to make it better, even if it meant his dad never, ever coming back.

It was a Tuesday when he understood that it was silly. Like, majorly silly. Childish and what should never be more than fun, a game, a daydream.

Because superheroes weren't real even if Scott still wished they were. It wasn't much of a revelation, not like finding out Santa wasn't real. He just finally grew out of it, the believing and wishing. He finally understood that there was no need for superheroes at all. There were no Green Goblins or Magnetos in this world to fight against.

There were bad people, sure, Scott isn't dumb, he knew that. There were people that maybe deserved the bad karma they'd recieve, but Scott still saw the good. That tiny little ball of light that had them helping that old lady or breaking up a fight.

Scott had to believe that, even when Stiles said, "Dude, that's like fourteen levels of stupid." He had to.

**/**

Allison sometimes made him feel like he was the best person on Earth. Not in an arrogant way, just like he was the greatest version of himself he could be.

There were no capes made of pillow cases and no pretending to spray webs from his wrists, but he still felt like he and Stiles were jumping off his bed; brave and invincible.

She said once, "You could be anything you want, I'm sure of it," and he swears that very moment was when he fell in love with her.

He didn't know how to say that he was already something he didn't want to be. A monster; the villain. Because werewolves were hunted, and if they were so good then why? If Scott was supposed to be some kind of hero then why was he treated like the bad guy, the one who loses the girl in the end? Derek called the bite a gift but Scott could see no positives. Not then at least.

Allison could look at him and he'd forget, though. His mind could settle and drift into that place where it was a spider that bit him or he was from space and was the good guy.

**/**

A lot of people died. So many that it made Scott want to scream. And even when he did no-one heard. They wanted to take lives to spare others and Scott only wanted to save.

He knows what they thought of him. Derek and Erica and Boyd and Isaac. Even Stiles sometimes. They thought he was naive, too optimistic to believe that they could help the villain.

They would look at him as if he were a child who still believed that his doggy wasn't gone, just off to a farm somewhere. But Scott knew, okay? He understood the circumstances and the risks but he couldn't change the way he thought. His immediate solution wasn't to eliminate the problem, but to solve it or help it.

Even though he did good, Scott still felt bad.

Went to sleep with a lump in his throat and an ache in his chest because this was it. This was his life now; murder was normal, unavoidable.

Allison left and school came back and then death reared it's head again. Decided to test them all _again_. It went worse than the last time.

Erica was dead. And then Boyd.

And then a piece of him, too. A little corner of his heart began to rot and he was terrified that it'd spread too fast for him to do anything about it. That it'd take everything good about him and squeeze until only darkness remained.

Some days he still isn't sure if that won't be the case. Maybe one day he'll wake up and be the one someone considers killing for the greater good.

**/**

He remembers working with Deaton at the vets one time, taking away some of the pain from an Alsation as she gave birth to her pups. Her name was Poppy and she looked up at Scott like he was amazing. He bit back tears and looked away.

There's only so much you can do. He hates that.

He can't save everyone and he can't tear away everything that makes them sad. He is not a superhero, no matter what anyone says. He has no superhero name or costume; his strength and senses and healing aren't powers.

He has his friends and his mom and he does his best to keep them safe and happy. Lets Stiles blast old school Maroon Five when they take the Jeep; lets Lydia tutor him in math; gives Isaac and Allison the space to become something he finds himself no longer jealous of. He learnt to cook a few dishes, too. Lasagna and meatloaf and beef casserole so that his mom has stuff to eat when she gets in late.

Scott will never think of himself as heroic. But sometimes he'll look at the picture Stiles' mom took of them, high up in a tree, their fake capes blowing in the wind, and when he does, Scott thinks he's doing alright.


End file.
